A flash bulb popped at close quarters. Simon looked up, blinking, and saw the photographer retreating with an ingratiating grin.
“That’s just a beginning,” explained Mr Ufferlitz complacently. “We’ll get plenty more pictures later, of course. But there’s no harm grabbing anything that comes along.”
“Would you mind,” asked the Saint, “telling me just what this is all about?”
“Your build-up. Of course I know you’re a celebrity already, but a little extra publicity never hurt anyone. I’ve got the best press-agent in town working on you already. Want you to meet him this afternoon... We got you all fixed up for tonight, by the way.”
“You have?” Simon said respectfully.
“Yep. It was in Louella Parsons this morning. I shot it in last night, soon as I knew you’d arrived. Didn’t you see it?”
“I’m afraid I was too busy reading the subsidiary part of the paper. You know — the part where there’s a war going on.”
Mr Ufferlitz thumbed through a bulging wallet and extracted a clipping. It had a sentence ringed in red pencil.
...Simon Templar (“The Saint,” of course) will be in town today, and the glamor girls have a new feud on. But his first date is April Quest, whom he will squire to Giro’s tonight. They met in Yellowstone last summer...
“It’s wonderful,” said the Saint admiringly. “A whole new past opens behind me.”